


at least the journal's dry

by rosielibrary



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Massage, wink wonk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 23:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16842412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosielibrary/pseuds/rosielibrary
Summary: “If you could take off your shirt, it’d help in me getting the best access.”He looks at you incredulously.“Sir.”art inspiration: http://veusin.tumblr.com/post/130740012304/you-wouldnt-be-interested-in-drawing-damp-shirt





	at least the journal's dry

Of course it started raining while you were looking for the Multi-Bear. Ford said he’d heard of the monster before, a long time ago, and he’d wanted to go searching for it, but it had always eluded his grasp on his own. As his assistant, you had to follow him along for the journey.

That didn’t work out so well– in his favor, at least.

When you’re about ten feet from the bottom of the mountain, Ford loses his footing and falls, your shout of his name lost in the downpour. You scale down the rocky surface until you can jump down yourself, running to him on the ground and helping him up.

He’d landed flat on his back in the grass, so he wasn’t too injured, just sore. The rain drips down his nose and he says maybe you could find the mountain keeper another day, to which you laugh and take his hand, pulling him towards the house.

(You don’t see his red cheeks when your fingers squeeze his.)

The two of you fall into the hallway dripping wet, and you slide your jacket off your shoulders, hanging it on the rack near the door. Ford tries to take his off, but he winces in pain from the exertion of his arms, so you push his arms to his sides, going to unbutton his long coat for him. He stays still until your head tips up towards his, your sudden proximity making both of you stiffen in shock. Ford’s eyes widen; you can see his pupils dilate.

His coat slips from between your fingers and onto the floor with an obnoxious splat, making you jump and go to pick it up. Ford stays rigidly straight, and you pop back up to hang his coat on the rack, asking if he was alright. He coughs and replies that he’s fine, but his back was killing him, which gives you an idea.

A terrible, wonderful, slightly nerve-wracking idea.

“Mr. Pines?”

You’d always called him by his first name. This was new, and he certainly wasn’t prepared for it. Ford shudders, and you struggle to keep your straight face.

“As your assistant, your best wishes are in my top priority. Would you like some aid with your back injury? I’m sure that some soothing of the muscles will help you out.”

The scientist nods warily, and you lead him into his office, where he stands next to his desk awkwardly. Your next step makes your face feel warm, even with the rain trickling down it.

“If you could take off your shirt, it’d help in me getting the best access.”

He looks at you incredulously.

“Sir.”

That gets him moving. Ford looks down at his white shirt plastered to his torso and starts unbuttoning it from the bottom upwards, and you watch him, biting the inside of your lip. Eventually, you have to help him peel it off his sore shoulders, and you can’t help but admire his muscular back as the shirt is dropped to the floor, forgotten.

“Now just sit down, your back needs to face me.”

He follows your directions and you stand behind him, stretching your arms out.

“Just relax, okay?”

Ford’s shoulders are tense, but your fingertips graze along them and he lets out a ragged breath, his arms resting on the arms of his chair. You grip his shoulders lightly, pressing your thumbs into the space between his shoulder-blades, eliciting a groan you certainly didn’t expect– not to say you didn’t get the slightest bit weaker in the knees from it, though.

It’s silent between the two of you for a moment, but Ford soon realizes why, jolting to attention and stammering apologies to you. Instead of a reply, the pads of your fingers press deeper into the space and rub, and he exhales in relief, almost melting against your touch.

The massage continues along his shoulders and the top of his back, and you find you’re leaning down to reach a spot and his neck is within rather close proximity, the hairs standing on end with each breath you let out against it. Your heart is thumping in your chest, but your hands keep moving as your head ducks lower, Ford’s body tensing beneath you.

You let your lips drag across his neck lightly before you kiss the sensitive skin, and Ford’s knuckles go white against the handles of his chair. Fingertips dancing along his shoulders and arms, you manage to circle yourself around to his front, where you pull away just a few inches, his breath mixing with yours.

“Stanford?”

He doesn’t mess around after that. He takes your chin in his hand, pulls you towards him, and kisses you surprisingly hard– and here you’d thought he’d be mister gentle and sweet, whoops– as he stands and curls his arms around you, tugging you against him. Your hands go to sit around his neck, being sure to be careful with his back and instead combing your fingers through his damp hair. Ford disconnects with a pop and you look up at him, breathing heavily.

“Ford–?”

“Call me– call me what you said before,” he says quietly, the tips of his ears red. There’s a development: he’s a man for titles, it would seem.

“Mr. Pines. Doctor Pines, even,” you laugh, and he ducks under your chin, peppering kisses along your jawline and throat, his hands unsticking your shirt from your back and traveling along your spine, making you lean into him with a slight moan.

“Sir… We have– we have work–!”

He turns you around and gently picks you up, plopping you down on his desk. Ford pushes the papers out of the way and scoots you up until he can stand comfortably between your legs, his hands on your waist.

“For once in my life, there’s something more interesting than work,” he murmurs against your ear, nipping at the skin. “You and I both know that we’re not going to focus until we’ve… Y'know.” Awkward Ford returns in full swing and you smirk, your arms loose around his neck.

“I know.”

His entire body seems to turn red, and you laugh with a shake of your head.

“Don’t think I couldn’t feel it. It’s pretty obvious.”

You look down at where he sits between your legs, and the hardness pressing against your thigh. A hand dips to tease him through his slacks and he moans, his head falling back.

“I think a thorough examination is in order, and I’m more than willing to help– as your assistant, your… Well-being… Is in my hands.”

“Well, assistant,” he mutters, brushing the papers off his desk, “Let’s start, shall we?”


End file.
